by C. Gockel
Carl put eight pairs of tiny paws on his sides. “Ma’am, are you trying to insult—”
Snickering, Rhinehart reached out and scratched him behind the ear.
Carl melted into a purr. “Oh, yes, right there! Right there!”
Volka’s eyes narrowed. She’d help them, but there was no way she was going on this wild-werfle chase without saying goodbye to Sixty.
2
Duty is a Harsh Mistress
Galactic Republic: Time Gate 5
6T9 walked along a corridor lined with ‘bots, all approximating salutes with whatever appendages they had—pincers, vacuum hoses, window wipers, brooms, mops, and occasionally, hands. A Kurzhaar4002, a chrome-plated, robotic German Shorthair Pointer, walked a step ahead of him, metal toenails lightly clicking in Time Gate 5’s hallway. The lights were only at 10 percent—the gate was under attack and conserving power. The horizon was close, curved upward, and every few steps new ‘bots came into view. As soon as he was in their visual range, they would say, or beep, “Android General 1, sir!” Time Gate 5 was responsible for updating all of these ‘bots; it had given 6T9 authority over them and programmed them to address him by that moniker. He wasn’t a general; he was a sex ‘bot, but he was programmed for fantasy, and right now he was playing along. The show of loyalty was convenient.
To 6T9’s left was Sergeant Davies of the Luddeccean Guard. Behind them followed two Luddeccean Guardsman: Lang, a weere, and Falade, a human. A few minutes ago, Lang and Falade had tried to kill 6T9...right after 6T9 had saved all three Luddecceans from freefall. Davies had stopped Falade’s attempt with a hand and calm words. 6T9 had stopped Lang by nearly breaking his neck. Static crawled along 6T9’s skin. Even when Volka had been afraid of 6T9, she had never tried to murder him.
His fingers twitched. It was good he hadn’t killed Lang. If he had, he would have lost Davies’s support. If he lost Davies’s support, he would lose the support of the rest of the Luddeccean Guard forces currently in decon in a nearby airlock. Lose the support of the Luddeccean forces and the gate would fall to the Dark, for the moment barely contained on the gate’s outer decks. 6T9’s Q-comm put the likelihood that the Dark’s presence on the gate was 93.2% serendipity. The gate should have been protected by the Galactic Fleet, but they’d been sent to help the emergency evacuation of Shinar in System 3 where a brand new super volcano was burying a continent in meters of ash. Fleet had called in System 5’s Local Guard forces to protect the gate in their absence. Unfortunately, System 5’s Local Guard had been infected by the Dark.
If the gate fell, Infected would spread throughout the galaxy without need of a faster-than-light ship. They’d destroy Volka and all the carbon-based lifeforms 6T9 cared about. His fingers twitched again. He had to tolerate Lang and Falade. He scowled. That calculus was what was keeping him from breaking their necks, not his programming and not altruism. Once, he’d thought of himself as altruistic.
The robotic hound came to a halt, sat down next to a pair of heavy, metal, sliding double doors, and looked up expectantly. Fading paint declared AIRLOCK. A green light declared the space beyond was pressurized; an orange light indicated that decon had not taken place. “Time Gate 5, why aren’t they through with decon?” 6T9 asked aloud, out of habit. He was used to being in Volka’s presence, and she didn’t have ethernet.
“The Luddeccean forces have damaged the decon equipment,” the gate responded silently over the ether. It might partially be habit keeping Time Gate 5 from speaking directly to the Luddecceans. Gates didn’t typically speak to humans, and especially not to civilians. It destroyed the illusion of privacy if the computer humans sent all their ether conversations through talked back.
Beside 6T9 the Luddecceans shifted on their feet. Through a video feed supplied by Gate 5, 6T9 saw Lang and Falade exchange glances with one another in a tiny inset at the corner of his vision.
“How did the decon equipment get damaged?” 6T9 asked, again aloud.
Another inset appeared. It showed the interior of the airlock before them from a bug’s eye view. The airlock was packed tight with Luddecceans in Galactic Fleet envirosuits, the whites of their eyes visible even through visors. All held rifles at the ready and were milling about, necks straining as they surveyed their accidental prison. The inset rewound, and 6T9 saw that twelve minutes ago, one man in the mass had said, “We’re trapped. It must be the Infected’s doing!” But another man had replied, “Or the gate’s. If we fry the circuit behind that panel, I might be able to override the lock mechanism.” A flash of phaser fire filled the inset.
6T9 released a breath, not because he needed to breathe, but because he was programmed to show emotion—it heightened human pleasure and their acceptance of him. The Luddecceans had come to assist the gate, but the gate had locked them in an airlock out of fear. It was a less than auspicious beginning to this historic joint venture.
“My actions may have precipitated that reaction,” Time Gate 5 said, again silently, still leaving the Luddecceans beside 6T9 out of the conversation.
Luddecceans were afraid of AI. Of course locking them in a confined space had “precipitated” a “reaction.”
But 6T9 played diplomat and spoke so the Luddecceans could hear. “You expected the Luddeccean Fleet to assist, but not for troops to come aboard you. Your caution was understandable.”
There was a moment of silence that stretched too long.
Davies coughed, and then whispered, “It was part of the plan from the start.”
“I did expect them, Android General 1. That is why I pressed Captain Darmadi to order them to consider my safety,” the gate replied, again secretly, into 6T9’s mind.
A muscle in 6T9’s jaw twitched at mention of the captain’s name. He’d known about the joint space battle, but thought Luddecceans were only aboard because Darmadi’s crew had been forced to abandon ship.
Five continued, “But as soon as they arrived in my airlock, they began speaking of destroying me.”
As soon as they’d realized they were trapped, 6T9 suspected.
“Why not let your local humans speak to them?” 6T9 asked. This time, he kept the comment private, afraid his peevishness would show.
“The native humans’ thoughts are chaotic,” Time Gate 5 responded. “I quarantined my sections occupied by Infected on your advice, and more than 15.83 percent of my civilian population believe I overreacted. Especially those with family members in the quarantine zones.”
“Problem, sir?” Davies asked.
Q-comm sparking, 6T9 turned to the sergeant. Davies would never pass as a Galactican, even in the Fleet envirosuit. His features weren’t augmented, and he had no neural port to mentally access the ethernet. Also—
Davies’s gaze snapped to a blinking cleaner ‘bot near his boot, and for a moment his eyes widened in shock and maybe even fear. No Galactican would blink at a cleaning ‘bot. Davies was nervous. Still, Davies hadn’t panicked earlier, and he had defended 6T9. They’d encountered each other before. The first time, Davies had saved Volka’s life. The second time, Davies had prevented 6T9 from barging in on Volka and Captain Alaric Darmadi. Davies had been right to keep 6T9 away. Darmadi had been what Volka had needed at that moment. While rescuing the captain’s wife, Volka had been forced to kill children infected with the Dark, and 6T9 had done nothing but second guess her. The captain had gone to comfort her when 6T9 had abandoned her. 6T9 had expected “comfort” to mean sex against the wall, but instead it had been completely, devastatingly innocent. Darmadi had been the shoulder to cry on and voice of reason she’d needed.
Davies, 6T9 could work with.
Darmadi, 6T9 wanted to kill.
“Sir?” Davies asked.
That killer impulse was what led him here. He needed to learn to control it and destroy the Infected, so he could go back to Volka, so Volka would be safe from the Dark...and safe from him. To do those things, he would need Luddeccean help.
“I need you to contact the Guardsmen in the air
lock,” 6T9 replied. “They fried the decon equipment with an escape attempt, and now Five needs to see to repairs—they need to stay in there …” Five piped a number into his brain. “An additional twenty-two minutes,” 6T9 said aloud for Davies.
Falade murmured, “I can’t believe a gate would be afraid of us.” He gulped audibly, and his eyes rolled to a spherical little repair ‘bot hovering at his shoulder. The repair ‘bot had one pincer raised in a salute. Its other hundred pincer arms hung at its sides, its multitude of spider-like eyes glowing slightly. Lang, the weere, muttered lowly, “Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it is tricking us,” and narrowed his eyes at 6T9. 6T9’s Q-comm hummed. Was it logical to allow the weere man to live? It distrusted him and had already tried to kill him once.
6T9’s thoughts were interrupted by Gate 5’s silent ether reply, “They are fanatics. They’ll commit suicide in their attempt to destroy the Dark. They’d see my destruction as only a plus.”
6T9 translated that for Davies. “The gate knows that Luddecceans are brave and not afraid of death. It fears that you might destroy it and yourselves to destroy the Dark.”
Squinting one eye, Davies said, “We’d prefer not to blow ourselves up, just the same.”
“There are civilians aboard,” Falade blurted, sounding scandalized. “We are ordered not to harm them.”
6T9’s lips pressed together. “I’m sure the gate finds that comforting.”
“No. I. Do. Not,” Gate 5 hissed into 6T9’s brain.
Davies’s head snapped to the younger Guardsman. “We swore an oath to protect the gate as well.”
An air vent clicked on in the hall.
“Yes, Sergeant,” said Falade.
“Yes, sir,” said the weere.
Davies turned back to 6T9. “Lieutenant Grayson is in there with them. You met him on SS33O4—he’s worked with machines before. If I could talk directly to him, I might be able to convince him we’re safe, and that they are too. That would help morale.”
“Gate 5,” 6T9 commanded. “Connect them.”
The air vent ticked off, and for a moment, 6T9 was worried the gate wouldn’t comply, but then there was a crackle within Davies’s helmet. Davies asked tentatively, “Lieutenant Grayson, sir, is that you?”
“Davies! Sergeant, you’re all right?” Grayson’s reply was loud enough for 6T9 to hear it through Davies’s helmet, but Time Gate 5 helpfully piped it into 6T9’s mind as well.
“Right as that fishing trip in Xinshii—” Davies tapped the side of his helmet, and he blinked. “Hello? Hello? I think I lost the connection?”
The little robot with the multiple arms and cluster of spider-like eyes spun, making its metal limbs rise. To 6T9’s utter shock, it spoke with Time Gate 5’s voice. “That was code. How can I trust you if you use code?”
Nebulas, the gate was more than frightened—it was terrified. So were the Luddecceans. All of them jumped. Gulping, Davies eyed the spinning ‘bot and mouthed the words. “What do I say?”
“Just tell the truth,” 6T9 suggested.
Davies looked heavenward instead of addressing the little ‘bot. “Mr. Gate 5, errr … sir, it was code. If I don’t say that, the lieutenant will think I’m under duress.”
In the ether, 6T9 said silently, “We have to trust them.”
“You trust them, General?” the gate asked over the ether.
Eyeing the human and weere Guardsmen who had tried to shoot him earlier, 6T9 replied, “Davies and Lieutenant Grayson, yes. The others will follow their lead.” He said it as though it were a certainty, knowing it was not.
There was a click inside Davies’s helmet. “Lieutenant?” he said, and then, “Yeah, really the fishing is fine, we are ah … scaring um, the gate, sir? There was a phaser blast that damaged the decon unit in your airlock and now it can’t let you out until it’s fixed. It would, uh, be a help, sir, if you could convince the men not to panic or threaten to blow the gate up, sir.”
“You sure you’re all right?” Grayson responded.
Davies let out a breath. “Yeah, it’s just very different, you know. Machines afraid of us? It is a lot to take in, sir.”
“I am not afraid. I am logically concerned.” The words came over the ether, and from the mouths of every ‘bot in the hallway. The metal walls reverberated with the sound, and it echoed through the corridor.
All of the Luddecceans started. 6T9 ground his teeth and spoke into the ether. “It’s humanese, don’t be offended.”
There was a flutter of static, and then Grayson responded, “It happens.” And 6T9 recalled Grayson had seen James react emotionally in System 33 when the Merkabah had arrived to rescue them. Grayson continued, “I’ll calm the men down … Davies, any news of the captain?”
Static rippled beneath 6T9’s skin.
Davies drew up straight. “We reached him—”
“He’s with you?” the lieutenant blurted, and then stated gravely, “He is injured.”
“No, sir, yes, sir.” Davies released a breath. “He almost escaped with us, but he was blown from the tick we stole.” He swallowed. “The last I saw, sir, a piece of shrapnel had hit him. Sir, I’m afraid he is...he isn’t...”
6T9’s Q-comm flashed. His vision went white, and he heard himself say, “Darmadi’s alive.”
Davies gasped.
“We saved him.” 6T9 released a breath, vision returning. Letting the Luddecceans know their captain had been saved by the Republic might ensure more goodwill.
“He could survive that blow to the gut? The hunk of shrapnel was huge,” Davies whispered.
6T9 remembered the meter-plus piece of metal piercing the captain’s abdomen. He probably had died, medically, but not irreversibly. 6T9’s lip turned up wryly. “The Republic will see he receives the best medical care.” More’s the pity.
Davies exclaimed, “That is good news, sir!”
But wide-eyed, Falade whispered, “Will he be a cyborg when they’re done?”
Davies beamed and shrugged. “Don’t matter. Captain’s always been a bit of a machine, anyway.”
6T9 had no idea how to categorize that remark and was afraid that scrutinizing it would cause him to want to kill Darmadi that much more.
“How long will he be forced to remain in the Republic?” Davies asked.
6T9’s Q-comm hummed with the question. He couldn’t answer the sergeant, not because he didn’t know, but because implications of a long convalescence in the Republic were occurring to him. Volka had felt Darmadi’s distress from the far edge of the solar system, through telepathy, a communication pathway 6T9 could never be part of. Darmadi and Volka had been lovers once; now they would be in each other’s company for a protracted amount of time. Volka wasn’t human; she was a weere—a wolf-human hybrid. Monogamy was in her genetic code. She was more than her default programming. She could resist her instincts—like the instinct to kill Alexis, Darmadi’s wife. But that had been a struggle for her. In coming here to save Volka, had he lost her? His vision faded to gray.
In the distance, he heard Davies say, “General, sir?”
Time Gate 5 responded to the sergeant. “He is contacting Gate 1, doubtlessly receiving information on your captain.”
As his immediate surroundings faded completely from his consciousness, 6T9 hoped he wasn’t snarling.
Rolling back on her feet, Volka peered at the misty gray projected by the holo-mat. Left by the Fleet Marines, the holo-mat was only about half-meter square, but its projection extended nearly the breadth of the bridge. The Marines had left other equipment, and somewhere nearby, Carl had curled up in a helmet for a nap, but Volka could see nothing but holo-mist. Cautiously turning in place, she blinked and realized that she had sort of a shadow—or an un-shadow—that spilled out where a normal shadow would be if the holo-mat had been an ordinary light source. Instead of being darker, the “un-shadow” was lighter, and she could see the pearlescent color of Sundancer’s hull at her feet.
This was a holographic version of a �
��mindscape,” which was, according to Bracelet, a “virtual reality environment of sounds and images—if you were a machine with the senses of touch, taste, and smell—you could enjoy those sensations in the mindscape as well.” According to Carl, “mindscapes are just like our telepathic conference calls with Sundancer, but generated by code, not imaginations.”
Volka pressed her lips together. It was not like Sundancer’s telepathic “conference calls,” it was dreary.
“It worked. We’re here!” Bracelet exclaimed from Volka’s wrist. “Or rather, I’m utilizing server space and processing power so that we may communicate with Sixty in a way that will seem more like real life than the tiny holos that I can project. We are still aboard Sundancer. Do not be afraid, Miss Volka.”
The mindscape was depressing, and Sixty wasn’t here, but Bracelet had gone through a lot of trouble to create it. She looked down at her jewelry-friend. “Thank you, Bracelet, it’s—” She looked around …
“The first time it’s been done that I know of, Miss Volka! I’ve heard of other machines looping their human family and friends in etherly, but never holographically.”
“It’s monumental and historic, then,” Volka said, glad that Bracelet couldn’t read her mind or feel her stomach sinking. Sixty wasn’t here.
Bracelet gave a self-satisfied hum, and Volka tried to think of a way to gently nudge the device toward the reason for this historic, monumental mindscape. “Do you think Sixty—?”
“Volka?” Sixty’s voice swelled around her, sounding startled and disbelieving.
“Sixty!” Swiveling her ears, spinning in place, Volka searched for him in the gloom, but saw nothing but gray. Swallowing her disappointment, she told herself that at least she could talk to him. “Are you here?”
He appeared as though fog had been swept away. He was wearing a tee-shirt, a sort of blue trousers that had been in the midst of a revival—they were called “jeans”—and canvas shoes with rubber soles. Her eyes widened. “You’re only wearing that?” Had he been stripped of his armor at Time Gate 5? Had it been given to a human? Maybe he had given it to a human; it would be like him to be so self-sacrificing. “You’ll be injured!”
